Malik and Ingrid Oneshots
by The Angels Will Always Cry
Summary: All of my one shots in one place; nothing but sarcasm, snarling, misery and what can only be called true love.
1. Love in the Shadows

She could barely see him in the dim lighting, but she could feel his hand on her arm. That was the only reassurance that they might get through this. The boy that had just saved her unlife, (after acting totally deranged), was pretty hot. He was also her brother.

Malik Vaccaria gripped a stake in his right hand, raising it like he was about to stab it into someone. His sister was hoping that it wasn't going to be her. Just in case, she decided to raise her stake a little higher, so it was almost chest level. Ingrid could easily stake Malik now. He was scowling at did not have the best relationship.

Relationship: Ingrid's stomach always did a backflip at the word, no matter how hard she tried to hate it. And the boy holding her back knew how she felt, because he felt the same way. Not that either of them would admit it.  
"Is it wrong to love a little and lose a lot?" Ingrid whispered. This wasn't right. They were in danger from the Shadow Warriors; Ingrid should be keeping her mind on the task at hand, but she had to know.  
"I thought you were much too shallow to think such thoughts." Malik sneered, "Are you sick?"  
"No!" Ingrid growled, pulling the stake out of her brother's hand and pointing it at him. She pressed it into his chest, nearly poking a hole in Malik's t-shirt.  
"Hey!" Malik smirked, "You could hurt someone."  
"No." Ingrid smiled her thin lipped smile at him, "I could kill someone." Then, Malik sighed and grabbed the stake back, before stalking down the corridor. The shadows were cast across his face, making his eyes look even darker than usual- he looked almost haunted. Who knew what had happened to him in Paris?  
"You know why we can't be together, Ingrid." Malik said, quietly; his black skinny jeans clung tightly to his legs, in the most attractive way, a metal chain hung down to his knees swinging back and forth as he walked. For some reason, Ingrid's stomach felt like it was fully of little bats, flapping around inside her.  
"You've heard of Cleopatra?" Ingrid said, slowly. She certainly had- Cleopatra was a powerful women, that killed people and had men begging at her feet. Ingrid could identify.

"The Queen of Egypt." Malik shrugged, "Might've heard of her. Any reason you're bringing this up?" If she could, Ingrid probably would've blushed so much, that she would've looked human. She followed him down the corridor. Garside Grange was full of twisting corridors, full of endless rooms. The shadows could be anywhere.  
"She married her brother." Ingrid said, almost shyly.  
"No, Ingrid, no!" Malik growled at her, holding her at arms length.  
"We both know how we feel!" Ingrid said, "And I hate it!" Tears began to run down her cheeks; what was going on? Ingrid never cried. Crying was highly unattractive, as well as pathetic.  
"I hate it too!" Malik exclaimed.  
"I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!" Ingrid was frustrated, her eye make up running down her face, "Malik, I love-"

He couldn't resist any longer. He touched both sides of her face, pressing his fifer tips to her temples. She was crying, tears dripping down her face. Though it seemed like slow motion, Malik could tell he was moving fast, pulling Ingrid close to him. Their lips pressed to each other's. It was nothing like Malik had imagined- the kiss that was. It was cold and wet, like snow in the winter, as Ingrid kissed him quickly, fiercely. Then, she pulled away from him, passion burning inside Malik like a fire.  
"That was so..." Ingrid struggled for words.  
"That never happened." Malik said, wiping away her tears. He managed to rub her smudged eye make up away easily. Erin had never cried. They continued to walk in utter silence, careful not to touch each other.

Suddenly, Malik grabbed Ingrid by the shoulder. In front of them, the long lean shadow was moving. It had to be one of them. Malik pointed silently towards it and Ingrid nodded to him. They raised their stakes. Both of them yelled in anger, running towards it.

It was the others; Vlad, George and Sally. They looked ready to kill too. Sheepishly, everyone lowered their weapons and looked at each other.  
"Sorry." Vlad said.  
"Malik dusted one." Ingrid informed him- and looked very heroic doing it, she could've added. But she wasn't going to say that, why was she thinking that?  
"Ingrid distracted it." Malik said, trying not to look at his sister. What they had done was so wrong. So, very wrong. Why did it feel so right?  
"That still leaves two more." Malik said. After a second, Vlad turned away from them all.  
"Stick together. I'll check in with Renfield." He instructed, running up the stairs.

Malik checked behind him, experiencing the eerie feeling that he was being followed. Ingrid looked around too, careful to avoid his dark gaze. Sally looked terrified. George seemed to be the only one that was paying true attention to what was going on, frowning at Ingrid.  
"Have you been crying?" she asked.  
"No." Ingrid said, avoiding Malik's looks; he had killed her feelings in the kindest way. And she had given him a reason to fight.


	2. Not that I care

_One shot set after Season 5 Episode 6, doesn't really contain any spoilers. Just an idea I had. _

Malik was standing outside Ingrid's door, peering into the room. He wasn't being creepy, he was just wondering what she was up to. He could see his sister leaning over her new computer and she could see a small bit of her pale neck, where her hair fell on either shoulder. She was wearing one of her favourite dresses, the black and dark red one with the gold lining. She was typing something, but Malik couldn't see the screen. That was when the lightning in the room changed, as the screen flashed to another image.  
"Ingrid!" Malik could hear a strong Scottish accent, that definitely belonged to a man. Did Ingrid have a secret boyfriend? Malik felt surprisingly bitter- BUT NOT BECAUSE HE WAS IN LOVE WITH HER, OKAY?  
"What do you want, Piers?" Ingrid sounded bored. Piers! Malik had to try not to snigger. Someone called Piers, could never be with Ingrid. And Ingrid sounded uninterested.  
"Wanted to ask about our date." Piers sounded smug. Hell, Malik really wanted to punch that guy's stupid face. Wait, why was Malik so annoyed by this? He didn't like Ingrid.  
"You'll take any excuse to talk to me." Ingrid said, and it sounded like she was rolling her eyes. But it was hard to tell from the back.  
"That's right, girlfriend." Piers said. Malik felt ready to throw up. Even if Malik did date Ingrid- AND HE DIDN'T WANT TO, OKAY?- he would never call her his girlfriend. The word "girlfriend" was so dumb; because a girlfriend was meant to be more than a friend that was just a girl... Right?  
"You are so pathetic." Ingrid said. Malik could've sworn he heard a smirk in her voice. Was Ingrid smirking? Ingrid smirked at Malik too. Did that mean that Malik and Piers were on the same level?  
"You are so attractive." Piers sounded like he was smirking too. Piers sounded like a really snobby, smug, annoying vampire. How could Malik compete with that? Why would Malik want to compete with that? NOT THAT HE WANTED TO, OKAY?  
"Go away, Piers. Please!" Ingrid sounded frustrated. But she never said please! Ingrid never said please! Why would she say please to Piers?

Malik pushed open the door, just in time to see Piers' face. Piers was an extremely dorky looking boy, not at all Ingrid's type. And he was a breather! Dad was going to kill Ingrid, then Piers and possibly a village, when he found out.

"Bye gorgeous!" Piers blew a kiss to Ingrid. Then, Ingrid ended the video call. She still hadn't noticed Malik standing behind her, glaring at her back. Now that he was close enough, Malik was tempted to reach out and touch the bare skin on the back of her neck. He had no idea why he was feeling like this around her, but he didn't like it. He didn't at all like the feelings he had been feeling recently.  
"Malik!" Ingrid spun around, trying to cover her computer.  
"Save it, I saw it all." Malik said, in a cool tone; he was trying hard not to sound too angry, "You're dating a breather, aren't you?"  
"Malik, it's not like that!" Ingrid said, calmly, "I can explain everything."  
"Explain quickly. Or I'm going to Dad." Malik snarled, feeling his fangs drop. So much for not being angry.  
"You think he'd care?" Ingrid took a step towards her older brother, then another. He found himself slowly backing away, for a reason unbeknown to even him.  
"He'd care enough to throw you out!" Malik said, quickly, "I don't want that!" Then, both of them realised what he had said. Malik forgot to shut his mouth and ended up staring blankly at Ingrid, like he couldn't believe what he'd just said.  
"Mhm." Ingrid pressed her lips together.  
"Is he your..." Malik shuddered, "Boyfriend?"  
"No. He's a nerd, who's never going to get a girlfriend." Ingrid said; they both laughed uneasily. Ingrid took another step forward, Malik took another one back to avoid having his toes crushed by her heels. This happened several times.  
"He called you gorgeous." Malik said, "He called you his girlfriend."  
"Is that what you wanted to call me?" Ingrid sneered. Eventually, Malik found himself in the doorway, with his hands pressed against the door frames.  
"You're my sister." Malik reminded her.  
"That's what you think." Ingrid said, attempting to push him backwards; Malik didn't budge an inch. He frowned at her.  
"What d'you mean?" He demanded, "Of course, you're my sister." Slowly, Ingrid crossed the room and lifted a book off a shelf. She threw the book at Malik, who instantly dropped it. Malik knelt down to pick it up, then he saw the page it had fallen on. He didn't get up, but stayed knelt on the floor staring at the book; he was vaguely aware of Ingrid kneeling beside him, but his attention was on the book. Neatly folded inside the page was a handwritten note, signed in the corner by Bertrand De Fortunesa.

_Malik's mother Elisabetta is the shapeshifter and, though Elisabetta was The Count's wife, I don't believe that Malik is The Count's son. I have researched both the Vaccaria and the Dracula family trees thoroughly and I don't see how Malik could possibly be his son. The timings just don't match up. Someone must be lying, and I don't think it's Malik. He seems convinced that he is The Count's son. I think Elisabetta might be lying to her own son._

It took a while for Malik to process what he had just read. For a long time, the vampires sat in silence, Malik shocked and Ingrid feeling awkward. That was when it occurred to Ingrid that Malik might be going into shock.  
"Malik?" Ingrid said, nervously, "I'll go and get you something to drink, okay? Just stay there." She stood up and sped down to the blood cellar. She grabbed a bottle of vintage blood off the shelf and heard the door swing open behind her. She spun around and saw that it was just Vlad.  
"Hey Vlad." Ingrid said, much too quickly, "You know stuff. What do you do when someone goes into shock?" Her younger brother stared at her in shock.  
"What kind of shock?" Vlad asked, "The kind that kills you or the kind that makes you-" He widened his eyes and opened his mouth, miming being shocked.  
"The kind where you find out your mum has been lying to you all your life?" Ingrid said, "Hypothetically, of course." She could hear the concern in her own voice.  
"Well, I've actually experienced that." Vlad picked up a bottle of soya blood, uncorked it and sipped from it, "Are you sure this is hypothetical? Have you been talking to Mum- I mean, Magda?"  
"Let's say, for the sake of this discussion, yes." Ingrid said, "What should I do?"  
"Oh, Ingrid!" Vlad threw his arms around her. Instinctively, Ingrid shoved him away.  
"You haven't helped me at all!" Ingrid shrieked. She sped back up to her room, only to find Malik missing. The window was slightly open.

Malik had collapsed on the roof, lying on his back to look up at the sky. He wasn't a Dracula at all, he wasn't even related to Ingrid. Speaking of Ingrid, the girl slinked over to him and sat next to him.  
"I should've told you the minute I found that note. But I thought you'd leave." Ingrid shrugged.  
"You'd hate that, wouldn't you?" Malik laughed bitterly. He felt so stupid about everything he said. Somehow, he always managed to make an idiot of himself.  
"Yeah." Ingrid said, handing Malik a bottle of blood- vintage, of course, "Here. It's Dad's."  
"Your Dad's." Malik said, sounding vaguely upset. He felt angry too though, anger burning up inside him. He popped the lid off the bottle and took a swig from it. He was suddenly extremely conscious of Ingrid lying down next to him, close enough for him to put his arm around her- HE DIDN'T THOUGH BECAUSE HE WAS NOT IN LOVE WITH HER, OKAY?  
"I've never looked at the sky before." Ingrid said.  
"Then, you are a phenomenon, my friend. To have lived over twenty years and never looked at the sky." Malik congratulated her.  
"I mean, properly." Ingrid said, "Look." She pointed, "Shooting star! Make a wish!" She was trying to be positive and it was creeping Malik out. But he made a wish all the same. Not that he wished about Ingrid- BECAUSE HE WAS NOT IN LOVE WITH HER, OKAY?

THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY 4 THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY

_READ AND REVIEW!_


	3. Arguments on rooftops

_I actually wrote this prior to Episode Eight. I was musing about writing a dance scene for a while and I wrote it up. Then, I watched the episode and HOLY RABIES- if you've watched it, you know what I mean. Also, petition to make Malikish a real word! :)_

_DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN YOUNG DRACULA AND MALIK AND INGRID ARE NOT MINE. (*has both of them tied up and thrown in the back of an Unsuspecting Black Van. "WHY WON'T YOU KISS?" I scream, as I shove them into each other...)_

THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY - THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY

They were on the rooftop, both of them fleeing from her relatives. Ingrid wanted to escape Vlad's birthday party, which was currently occurring inside. When she had come outside, she had found Malik had had the exact same idea.  
"You couldn't stick it either?" Ingrid asked.  
"All Talitha's talk of auras were starting to creep me out." Malik said; Ingrid laughed quietly. It was silent for a few moments, the sound of distant chatter the only sound in the night. It was the kind of silence that Ingrid couldn't stand, the kind where it feels like someone should say something- anything.  
"Everyone's here to see Vlad." Ingrid said, unaware of how bitter she sounded. She was just trying to fill the gap in the conversation  
"I'm not exactly sticking around for Vlad." Malik told her.  
"Who are you sticking around for?" Ingrid smirked, looking at him in interest. Let's see him wriggle his way out of that one, Ingrid thought. To her surprise, he only smiled in a very Malikish way and avoided her gaze.

The music drifted from the assembly hall and out into the night. From where they were standing, the music was faint and soft like wind chimes on a calm afternoon.  
"Do you dance?" Ingrid said, fully expecting him to say no, "Mr Vaccaria?"  
"Well, this is a party." Malik said, "And to answer your question, I would be honoured to be your dance partner, Miss Dracula." Was he joking? It was hard to tell. Both of them stepped towards each other uneasily. Very slowly, Malik's hand slid into Ingrid's, his soft leather gloves rubbing against her gentle fingers. Clumsily, Malik stepped forward and she stepped back. And they began to dance.  
"You've never done this before?" Malik whispered, his voice nearly lost in the night. They stepped again, this time to the left.  
"Not like this." Ingrid whispered back, "You?" The wind caught her hair and it whipped across her face. Her hair smelt like woodsmoke, like she had torched a village. The night wasn't perfect, it was windy and cold, but the dance wasn't either. It was clumsy and rather awkward; Ingrid kept stepping on Malik's feet in her pointed heels.  
"Never." Malik said, "Dancing doesn't really fit with the bad boy cliché." Ingrid spun around slowly, laughing lightly. Her hands were still threaded through Malik's, their fingers intertwined.  
"You don't really fit the bad boy cliché." Ingrid told him. Now, more than ever, was a chance to tease Malik. About leather jackets and motorbikes. About gangs and spray painting. About moping around in the shadows, waiting for the chance to attack someone.  
"That's not what you thought, when we met." Malik reminded her, pulling her closer to him. The dance was slightly less awkward, now that their minds weren't on the dance itself. Once Ingrid stopped worrying about stepping on Malik's feet, she stopped stepping on his feet; which he was incredibly glad about.  
"When we met, I thought you were a lonely little boy in love with himself." Ingrid found herself saying, as Malik's hands moved down to her waist. He lifted her easily off the ground and spun her around once, before placing her back on her feet.  
"And now?" Malik asked smoothly, taking her hands again.  
"I still need convincing otherwise." Ingrid smirked. The dance had slowed to being just a hand hold, both of them looking into each other's eyes. Malik's dark eyes seemed to sparkle in the starlight. He can glare all he likes, Ingrid thought, but his eyes are truly gorgeous.  
"How could I be in love with myself, when I don't even know what I look like?" Malik pressed one of his hand to the side of Ingrid's face. Her skin was smooth to his touch and she shivered. She wasn't cold, Malik knew that, she must be getting that tingly feeling under her skin. Malik often got that feeling, when he saw Ingrid.  
"I know what you look like." Ingrid told him.  
"And what do I look like?" Malik asked. The corner of Ingrid's mouth twitched, a smirk slowly playing onto her lips.  
"A bad boy cliché."

When they realised they had been standing still for about five minutes, Ingrid was the first to move. She darted to the edge of the building, staring down at the unnerving drop in defiance. Malik followed her, ready to catch her if she fell.  
"They say fear gets adrenaline going." Ingrid said, lowering herself into a sitting position. Her feet hung over the edge.  
"Your point being?" Malik sounded amused, sitting down and swinging his legs over the edge of the building.  
"I'm more likely to kiss you, if I have adrenaline in my system. It makes me impulsive." Ingrid said, leaning towards him. He smirked. Fearlessly, Ingrid shoved him and he nearly fell off the top of the building.  
"Everything makes you impulsive." Malik said.  
"What can I say, I'm an impulsive sort of person." Ingrid smiled her usual thin lipped smile.  
"A mistreated girl with an attitude problem." Malik said, suddenly.  
"What?" Ingrid blinked several times, as if it would help her understand.  
"That's what I thought of you, when we first met." Malik shrugged. He was really brave to admit that, whilst sitting on the edge of a building. The moonlight cast a shadow across his face, as he turned to smirk at Ingrid. Luckily for him, Ingrid didn't push him to his death. She just smacked him in between the eyes.  
"Attitude problem?" Ingrid raised her eyebrows at him. Any other time she would've screamed in annoyance that no, she didn't have an attitude problem and no, she did not need anger management and yes, she did mean to throw that plate.  
"Bad boy cliché?" Malik raised his own eyebrows in imitation. He must either really trust me, or be totally deranged, Ingrid thought.  
"I trust you not to shove me off the building." Malik chuckled, as if he had read her mind.  
"Are you sure?" Ingrid edged towards him, "I could make your death look like an accident."

"If you wanted me dead, you would've killed me by now." Malik looked smug, folding his arms across his chest. He received a shove in the back and tumbled off the roof. The fall alone wouldn't kill him, as long as he didn't smash into a fence below. When he collided with the ground, he could've sworn he felt every single bone in his body shatter into a million pieces. His body seemed to implode on itself and the breath was knocked right out of his lungs.  
"Malik." Ingrid was already standing over him. She sounded almost concerned. Malik pushed himself into a sitting position and felt himself over for broken bones. Anything that was broken would mend within minutes.  
"Ingrid." Malik managed to say, taking a sharp breath, "Why the hell would you push me?"  
"I didn't push you." Ingrid snapped, "You fell; don't try and blame this on me!"  
"Well, someone pushed me!" Malik rolled his eyes. He didn't care if Ingrid had pushed him, but she should at least admit to it.  
"Maybe someone's trying to bump you off." Ingrid sighed, grabbing him by the hand. Roughly, she yanked him to his feet and looked around warily.  
"We should stick together." Malik said, squeezing Ingrid's hand tightly. She smirked at him, pulling him closer to her. They stood there for a few moments, Ingrid's head resting against Malik's chest and Malik breathing in the scent of her hair.

"You pushed me, didn't you?" Malik said, after a while. He didn't let go of her.  
"I just wanted a moment like this between us." Ingrid replied, "And admit it, you did too."

THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY - THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY

_READ AND REVIEW! ("HELP US!" Malik and Ingrid yell, as I repeatedly smash their heads together...)_


	4. Vampires write poetry!

_*mourning Malik* _

_I will write a serious about Malik and Ingrid soon. _

_THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY - THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY _

She was sitting on the staircase inside the school, her diary balanced on her lap. The small diary was black with glittery skull stickers stuck to the cover. She had started keeping it after she had gone into therapy, because Joan- that was her therapist- had insisted. Ingrid Dracula tapped her pen against the page she was on.  
"Hm." Ingrid muttered, "What to say?" She couldn't think of words to describe what had happened in the past few days. She didn't even want to write Malik's name down, in case anyone found her diary.  
"Um." Ingrid said.  
"Hello Ingrid. Is that your diary?" Miss McCauley was standing there, smiling down at her. Quickly, Ingrid slammed her notebook closed.  
"Maybe." Ingrid snapped, "What's it to you?"  
"Sorry, Ingrid. Didn't mean to pry." Miss McCauley sat beside her, "I kept a diary at your age."  
"Mhm." Ingrid really wasn't interested in the slightest. But the head teacher carried on anyway.  
"I used to write poetry." Miss McCauley said, "It's a really unique way of expressing oneself." Hit with sudden inspiration, Ingrid opened her diary again and began to scrawl across the page.

He was flopped across one of the hammocks in the basement, scribbling something in the front of his book. The book had been given to him by his mother, but it was the only paper available to him at the time.  
"Whatcha doing, Malik?" One his friends teased, "Writing soppy poetry?"  
"No." Malik lied uneasily. He was writing poetry and maybe it was a bit soppy. Maybe. Okay, it was totally soppy. But Malik was allowed to be creative once in a while, wasn't he?  
"Is it about your girlfriend?" someone demanded.  
"Ingrid is not my girlfriend." Malik growled in frustration.  
"Let me read it!" someone else said. As someone grabbed for Malik's book, he leapt to his feet and dodged out of the room. The group sprinted down the corridor, all of them laughing and jeering. Malik turned to face the vampires that were chasing him.  
"Hey, five against one doesn't seem fair!" Malik protested. There was a pause and they all looked at him. Then, Malik carried on running, tearing the page out of his book. He screwed it up and threw it across the room.  
"Oi!" Ingrid yelled.

She was hit over the head with a piece of paper and nearly got her brains bashed out. Before she could protest, the revamps leapt on top of her, scrambling for the paper.  
"Hey! Help!" Ingrid shrieked, as she tried to wriggle out of the way of the other vampires.  
"Sorry, Ingrid." Malik muttered, as he kicked the piece of paper under a locker; then, he added for his friends, "Games over, guys." But the revamps' veins were pumping with adrenaline now and they were a little overexcited. They grabbed Ingrid's diary and began to tear it to pieces. Paper fluttered everywhere, most of it torn apart.  
"Hey!" Ingrid protested, sounding annoyed. She'd worked ages on that diary. As the revamps scuttled away to destroy something else, Malik shot Ingrid an apologetic look.

THREE WEEKS LATER  
Looking at the pair standing in front of her, Miss McCauley was feeling more surprised by the minute about the past events. She had been shifting through the papers in her desk, when she had come across two excellent pieces of writing. They were crumpled up and had been found by some students, who handed them in instantly. She assumed it was exam work, that it was written by someone studying English. She had sent the work to the local newspaper, hoping that getting a students work published would get more publicity for the school. The handwriting on both work's was pretty terrible to say the least. But, nevertheless, the newspaper had sent the stories back with a note describing a way of winning something with the poetry.

"You want to enter us into a national poetry competition?" Malik snorted with laughter, "You're crazy." Miss McCauley held up the two pieces of paper. One had the name "Ingrid Dracula" scratched in the corner- Miss McCauley had assumed the Dracula part was a pen name, because Dracula didn't really exist- and "Malik Vaccaria" was scrawled on the other.  
"I didn't write that." Ingrid protested immediately.  
"I didn't write anything either." Malik crossed his arms.  
"I didn't say I wanted to enter them." Miss McCauley said, "I said I had. This could be good for the school!" Both Malik and Ingrid looked at each other in horror; this was probably the kind of thing that embarrassed them, Miss McCauley thought, how sweet.  
"No way." Malik buried his face in his hands, "Kill me now, Ingrid."  
"With pleasure." Ingrid said. But she couldn't take his offer seriously while Miss McCauley was here. What a shame. Luckily, Miss McCauley decided that she was going to go and get The Count and inform him of his daughter's talent.  
"This is just getting better and better." Ingrid sighed, running her hands through her hair. Sighing, Malik leant against Miss McCauley's desk and looked at Ingrid in annoyance. Then, he thought of something.  
"What did you write?" Malik asked, before adding, "Wait, don't tell me..." He picked up the paper of McCauley's desk and began to read it aloud.

"In the shadows lurked death;  
And also that I loved;  
Creeping by the candlelight;  
Our hands were intertwined;  
All I wanted was to be away;  
Away from this horror here;  
Creeping by the candlelight;  
And the feeling of his hand in mine;  
Reassured me that I am not alone;  
Even in the shadows where death lurks."

When he had finished reading, Malik rolled his eyes at the gushiness of the poem. Then, he threw the paper back on the desk. Ingrid was avoiding his gaze, staring very purposely at her feet.  
"I'm sure yours isn't any better." Ingrid raised her eyebrows.  
"Yes, it is." Malik said before he could stop himself, "It's a sonnet!"  
"It's a sonnet!" Ingrid mocked in a whiny voice. He reached over and pushed her hard. She laughed at the annoyed look on his face.  
"Seriously though." Ingrid said, reaching past him and grabbing his poem off the desk.  
"No, don't-" Malik tried, but Ingrid was already reading.

"Her hair was black like a raven upon night;  
Her lips be redder than the blood she drinks;  
If a lion is strength, then she be might;  
If eyes be crystals, her eyes be sapphires;  
I have seen the murder of a hundred;  
But none so subtle as what she desires;  
And I have seen her lay roses on graves;  
But none of those graves she truly pitied;  
I never ask why it's me that she saves;  
I grant I have never seen dark creatures;  
Except in her twisted, bitter feelings;  
And the utter beauty of her features;  
If ideas decided to conform;  
Death would truly take her form."

There was a silence after she finished. Ingrid had been planning to sneer, to rub Malik's poetry in his face and make fun of him. Now, she wasn't so sure.  
"Is this about me?" she demanded, her hands on her hips. She glared at Malik, because she didn't simply know what else to do. Also, because Ingrid could only manage two facial expressions; glaring and smirking.  
"Was yours about me?" Malik returned instantly. They were facing each other, Ingrid standing on tip toe to even be close to looking him in the eyes. They were even close enough to kiss. That was when Miss McCauley and The Count walked in. Malik and Ingrid instantly backed away from each other.

ONE WEEK LATER  
"I've got news." McCauley said in a very serious tone. Both of the vampires looked at each other in horror. This couldn't be anything good. Nothing Miss McCauley said was good news.  
"Neither of you won. The poetry competition that is." she said. She was very surprised when Ingrid sighed with relief and Malik actually whooped. They bumped fists in excitement.  
"We lost! Get in there!" Malik punched the air.  
"We lost, we lost, we lost!" Ingrid sung gleefully, "WE LOSSSSSTTTT, MAAAAAALLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIKKKK."  
Miss McCauley had never seen her so happy in her life. The vampires flung their arms around each other, hugging each other tightly. Then, they backed away awkwardly. Ingrid left the room, ducking behind her hair. Malik flipped his fringe out of his eyes and laughed. He went to follow Ingrid out of the room.  
"Malik." Miss McCauley caught him by the arm, "If you like Ingrid, you should say something."  
"What?" Malik was taken aback. He didn't like Ingrid, of course he didn't like Ingrid. Why would he like Ingrid? It's not like he enjoyed saying Ingrid's name and smelling her hair and looking into her bright blue red and saying Ingrid. And he certainly hadn't written poetry about her.  
"I know what it's like, when the person you love doesn't notice you. I think you should go for it. Ask her on a date." Miss McCauley advised. Malik looked at her for second and thought about biting her. The thought of sinking his fangs into her neck and drinking her warm, still blood was appealing certainly. But maybe she was right. After all, McCauley had liked The Count for ages, everyone knew that.  
"Yeah, yeah, maybe I will." Malik said, "Cheers, McCauley." And with that he slunk away.

THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY - THE ANGELS WILL ALWAYS CRY

_I wrote this prior to tonight's episode. _


End file.
